


Extempore

by yetanotherramblingfangirl



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, just go with it, regency au, there's no way of knowing how slow yet, they meet at a ball because why not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 17:20:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15890562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yetanotherramblingfangirl/pseuds/yetanotherramblingfangirl
Summary: Miss Hecate Hardbroom has been sent to spend the summer with her cousin Mrs. Gray.  At a ball she meets the intriguing Miss Ada Cackle.  Over the course of the season, Hecate begins to question what is expected of her and what exactly she wants from life.





	Extempore

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back again and trying something new. I haven't done a Regency AU before, but the idea was too good to pass up. Please keep in mind that any mistakes are my own. If there's anything glaring, please let me know.
> 
> This will be a multi-chapter story, but because of my work schedule I'm not sure how long it will be between updates. I beg you to be patient with me.
> 
> Enjoy!

“Do try to find something to talk about, Miss Hardbroom,” Mrs. Gray said as she ushered Hecate over to a group of young women. “Make an effort this time. How do you expect to make connections if you refuse to speak to anyone?”

Hecate bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from making any one of the six sarcastic remarks that leapt immediately to mind, chief among them the fact that she was not interested in inane chatter about the weather or shooting. She was not in the mood for another lecture about the difference between sarcasm and wit. She’d heard the same speech at least a hundred times since coming to spend the summer with her cousin while her father and his new wife toured the continent. So, in the spirit of avoiding more unsolicited advice on sociability, Hecate simply said, “I shall try.”

Mrs. Gray gave her arm a gentle, affectionate squeeze. Hecate could see her cousin’s small smile from the corner of her eye. “Now, I shall introduce you to the young ladies. You’ve already met Miss Fenton, so I am sure she will be happy to assist you in making a favorable impression on the others.”

Hecate nodded, wishing yet again that she could escape any obligation to speak to these women. She doubted she had anything meaningful to add to their conversation, but she would endeavour to be polite. She was capable, no matter what anyone back home in Hampshire had to say on the matter.

“Miss Fenton, Miss Blackwood, Miss Redfield, it is a pleasure to see you as always. May I present my cousin, Miss Hardbroom.” Mrs. Gray said with a smile to the young women before her.

“Good evening, Mrs. Gray; Miss Hardbroom. I am most pleased to see you both again.” Miss Fenton’s greeting was warm as she was a young woman of amiable temperament. She smiled at Hecate.

Miss Blackwood and Miss Redfield gave polite greetings in return, though they were reticent if they felt any sort of enthusiasm at a new introduction. Hecate was equal in her reserve, so she decided to take no offense at her cool reception. She was certain she would inadvertently give them reason for it in future anyway. Miss Fenton was enthusiastic enough, already inviting her into their conversation with an inquiry about the provenance of her dress.

Hecate played along, following the conversation’s quick twists and turns. The fixation of the others on fripperies and local gossip allowed her to contribute little while still appearing to be an active participant. Her mind was free to wander and little was asked of her, other than to give the occasional comment about the quality of an unknown woman’s dress sense.

She had rarely been so bored.

Mrs. Gray had stayed just long enough to ensure Hecate was participating in the conversation before going to join a friend at the whist tables. After twenty minutes of drinking punch and talking of nothing of consequence, Hecate was almost relieved at the suggestion that the four repair to the ballroom for dancing. She found herself agreeing that this was a most agreeable idea.

If only her father could hear her now. He wouldn’t have recognized her.

But the reality was that disappearing into the ballroom allowed her the opportunity to escape the inane chatter about fashion and who was said to have an understanding with whom. She didn’t care much for being forced to listen to men who were equally as boring in their own way, but she could only take so much conversation about the virtues of silk versus satin. If she instead must listen to men prattle on about the ‘fine summer weather’ or ‘poor state of shooting’, she would do it.

Hecate forced herself to suffer through two dances of interminable length for the sake of appearances. She had engaged in inane chatter about subjects she cared little for; she had danced with two boorish men whose conversation could barely be classified as such; she had allowed herself to be pushed and cajoled and scrutinized. In short, she had endured enough of the social obligations expected of a young woman of marriageable age for her exit from the ballroom not to be cause for question. Her flushed face and breathless air provided the perfect excuse to leave.

She needed a quiet moment purely to herself if she had any hope of making it through the rest of this evening without causing offense. Her nerves were quickly reaching their fraying point. The loud crush of the ballroom, the constant chatter of the guests, the uncomfortable expectation that she enjoy the festivities. It was all just too much for a young woman who would much rather spend her time surrounded by books and paper than in the company of others.

It came as a great relief to her to find the library abandoned. She slipped through the open door quietly, closing it behind her with a soft click of the latch. Leaning against the door, she closed her eyes and sighed contentedly at finally being free of noise and unwelcome gazes. Her eyes shot open once more at the sound of a throat being gently cleared.

“I am very sorry to have startled you,” the woman said as she rose from a chair facing the fire. “I just thought it important to announce my presence. I did not wish to intrude on a private moment.”

Hecate’s hand had flown to her chest upon being startled. She pushed herself away from the door, coming more fully into the room. “No, I should be the one to apologize. I did not see you sitting there.”

The other woman waved her hand in dismissal of the apology, her gentle smile and bright eyes smoothing over any affront that may have been caused by the gesture. “Please. I owe you an introduction after having given you such a fright. Miss Cackle. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Miss Hardbroom. The pleasure is mine, Miss Cackle,” Hecate said with a slight nod of acknowledgment, taking the moment to examine the woman before her. It was clear upon closer inspection that the other woman was several years Hecate’s senior, placing her firmly in the category her father would label “likely unmarriageable”. She couldn’t understand why. With her dark hair, pale eyes, and easy smile, Miss Cackle was a very striking woman. She had a fuller figure than Hecate herself, but she was tidy in appearance. Hecate would even go so far as to call her beautiful.

“I take it you’ve been dancing,” Miss Cackle said after the moment stretched into awkward silence, breaking Hecate from her reverie. Her tone was polite, her head cocked slightly in clear interest. 

Hecate shifted uncomfortably under Ada’s gaze, embarrassed to have been caught out. She got the distinct feeling that she was being sized up, weighed and measured on a scale she could not identify or yet comprehend. The only option was to play along. “I have,” she said, her response short but not unkind.

“I hope you found decent partners. I dare say a fair few on offer here tonight leave much to be desired.”

Unsure of how to respond, Hecate found herself floundering for what to say. Should she confess that she had not enjoyed the company of either partner, having found both to be intolerably dull? Or should she demure, refuse to say anything on the matter?

She was saved from responding by Miss Cackle’s quick interjection. “I did not wish to offend you with my remark,” Miss Cackle added, her eyebrows furrowing slightly. “It is just that I have spent more years than I care to admit at events with the same pool of young men, and, well, to be perfectly candid, more than one has trodden quite heavily upon my toes.”

Hecate almost sighed with relief at being saved from replying to the earlier comment. “I took no offense,” she said, the corners of her mouth turning upward in the barest hint of a smile. “I have been lucky enough this evening not to have been grievously injured by clumsy partners. My escape was predicated more on a need to escape the crush and heat of the ball room than a need to escape a particular partner.”

“I’ve always thought the ballroom here too easily crowded.” Miss Cackle seemed to relax at Hecate’s easy answer.

“Have you been to many balls here, Miss Cackle?”

“Several, though I will not age myself by revealing just how many.”

Miss Cackle’s easy smile was back, her eyes twinkling merrily in the firelight. Hecate hoped it would remain. “I take it that you live nearby then.”

“Yes. My family lives at Lethwell Park, not five miles from here. May I inquire as to where you are staying, Miss Hardbroom?”

“Of course. I’m staying with my cousins, the Grays, at Heathcote.”

“How lovely. I hope you are enjoying your stay?”

“Indeed. Everyone has been most hospitable.”

“Good, good.”

Hecat could feel the conversation swiftly drawing to a close and felt a small pang of regret at the realization. Miss Cackle seemed an interesting companion, or at the very least an intriguing one for the moment. But she would not force her company on another person for longer than was desired. She was too busy trying to think of a way to excuse herself to hear Miss Cackle clearly. An embarrassed flush painted itself across her cheeks as she said, “I beg your pardon.”

“I said,” Miss Cackle said with another twinkly-eyed smile, “that I was going to join the whist party. Would you care to join me, Miss Hardbroom?”

Unable to contain her own smile, Hecate nodded. “I think I would, Miss Cackle. Thank you.”

“Think nothing of it,” Miss Cackle said as she made her way past Hecate to open the door. She held it open, extending her arm outward in a sweeping gesture. “After you.”

Hecate walked through the door, pausing in the hallway. She was quite unsure of where she was headed, having previously been too focused on finding an empty room to hide in to pay close attention to her surroundings. She smiled at her companion who had stopped beside her. “Please, lead the way, Miss Cackle. The cards await us.”

“Indeed they do, Miss Hardbroom. I somehow get the impression that you are quite skilled.”

Hecate’s smile only grew. “Perhaps. But there is only one way to know for certain.”

“Quite right. If you’ll follow me, Miss Hardbroom.”

So follow she did.


End file.
